January Gets Her Gunn

Chapter 8-2

Thad grinned. “Only about his weekly pet peeve. The rest of the time he’s cool and steady.”

Before January could answer, Thad blurted, “Dammit, I’m going to miss you not being in the car with me. I’ll worry about you.” Grabbing his brief case, he practically exploded out of the car, slamming the door hard.

Jan took her time, gathered her gear, and double checked to make sure she had everything. When she got to the squad room, Thad was busily typing reports. He wouldn’t look at her or speak. After she countersigned the log and the reports, she just sat waiting for the okay to go home. She could hear the first shift coming in, back in the locker room.

“Jan, I’d like to speak with you a moment.” Sergeant Wilson was standing at the door. He jerked his head toward the hall. January got up and followed him down to one of the interrogation rooms. He motioned her in.

“Sit down Jan. This won’t take but a minute.” Ken smiled at her. January sat in one of the chairs and he another. “As you know, you’ll be in Area Five when we come off rest days. I have all the confidence that you’ll handle it well, but I have to warn you that you’re still on probation. While that shouldn’t be a problem, I’m required to remind you. Now that is out of the way, I want to say you’ve been an outstanding officer so far. I’m proud to have you on my shift. Now at last you can prove yourself as a working cop. The rest of the shift knows about it and they’ll be there to help, if you get stuck. To a man, they said it’s about time. They’re not only professional brothers, on this shift especially, we’re family. Even Thad is coming around, thanks to you. If you have any doubts, come to me. I’d rather discuss things before they become problems and then have to take official action.” Ken stood up and held out his hand, “Congratulations, Jan.”

“Thanks, Sarge.” January stood and took his hand. She didn’t try to hide the tears in her eyes.

“Have a good rest. See you Wednesday night.” He patted her gently on the shoulder, turned and walked out of the room.

When January got back to the squad room, everybody was gone except Carlos Perez and his partner, Bert Smith, still typing reports. “You guys need help?”

“Nah, Jan, we’ll be through in a minute. Late burglary.” Bert grinned at her. “Thanks, anyway.”

“Okay, guys, see you at the Chuck Wagon.” She picked up her brief case and walked out. Thad was acting funny in the squad room, just as if he was trying to erase me from his mind. I suppose by Thursday, they’ll have to reintroduce us. Maybe it’s just as well. He’s carrying more bad baggage than I care to handle. She noticed that his car was gone from the parking lot. Now, why does that bother me?

* * * *

20 Sept 1982, 0650:

Thad drove up Centennial to Grandma’s Kitchen, his usual breakfast haunt. Good thing he knew the way completely, for his vision was not up to par. After parking, he used his handkerchief to wipe his eyes before going inside. As usual, nobody spoke to him when he walked in. As soon as he sat down, Laura, the waitress, brought a steaming pot of tea and sat it in front of him.

“The usual?”

When he nodded, she turned and walked away without another word.

I feel lonely. I need somebody to talk to. Well, it’s my own fault, I always cut off anyone who just wants to chat. Damn you, January Farrell, what have you done to me? Thad stared out the window, seeing nothing. I dinna do right tha ither nicht i’ tha park. I should have no kissed her. Ach, by the Sainted Mother Mary, I wanted to kiss her, since that first nicht.

Thad’s reverie was broken by the waitress setting a bowl of oatmeal and a small pitcher of milk before him. Laura still said not a word and went on about her tasks. Smart woman.

Mechanically, Thad poured milk into the bowl and spooned sugar from a dispenser onto the mush. He also poured a small amount of milk into his tea. He idly stirred the tea, staring out the window, remembering January’s soft lips against his. A noise in the kitchen brought him back to reality. He commenced to eat the oatmeal, savoring the sweetness and the richness of the milk. Only after he had come to America had he ever had milk and sugar for his gruel. More often than not, his breakfast in Scotland had been a bannock of oats, barley, and rye, with some dried salted haddock.

When the bowl was nearly empty, Laura brought him the pancakes and eggs. As she turned away, Thad spoke. “Laura, what days are you off?”

She stopped and looked back at him, a stunned expression on her face. “Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Why?”

“Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?” There, wasn’t that gentlemanly enough?

“No, Mister Gunn. I’m engaged and I don’t date anyone else.” She frowned, raising her gaze to his for a moment. “You know, I’ve been waiting on you for eight months and this is the first time, other than my first day, that you said anything but thank you. Even if I were not engaged, I wouldn’t go out with a man as surly as you.” She wheeled and walked away.

Thad watched Laura walk off, her back stiff. She went behind the counter. Picking up a coffee pot, she refilled several cups for men sitting at the counter, smiling and exchanging banter with them. That surprised him, for he could not recall ever seeing her smile before. Am I so terrible?

* * * *

20 Sept 1982: 0730:

At the Chuck Wagon, January laughed at the teasing Phil Hunt was getting.

It was good natured banter, the shift’s way to say goodbye to a respected member of the team, revealing their emotions without getting maudlin. She had received her own share of congratulations and teasing, as well. She gazed around the circle, warmth settling like a blanket over her heart. It’s great to be here with people who can work together and still be friends. It’s like Ken Wilson says, we’re family. I’ll always miss my brothers and love their memories, but now I have ten new brothers to love. I wish Thad could share in this. He needs it more than I do. Damn, why does it bother me? Out at the park, it was nothing but lust. Now it can’t be anything else except history.

She was surprised to see both sergeants come in, Wilson carrying a stuffed shopping bag. They pulled chairs up to the table as everyone shifted to make room and then ordered coffee. After Maye had filled and set mugs in front of them, Ken Wilson stood up and set the shopping bag on his chair.

“Detective Hunt, while we hate to lose you, we want to congratulate you on your promotion. As your supervisor, I was happy to have you on my shift and could always depend on you. Of course, I’m always happy to see one of my people advance even though I’m losing a good cop. But I know that the new paycheck will be a welcome visitor to the Hunt household.”

Ken paused a moment to let the chuckles die down. “Phil, the shift wanted to get you something to remember us by. Everybody pitched in, and as Papa Ken and Uncle Wayne got stuck with buying the present, I get to do the speechifying.” Ken paused again before reaching into the shopping bag. He pulled out a big white envelope and handed it to Phil. It was a humorous card, which the whole shift had signed. Phil looked at it, grinned, and blinked a time or two before he handed it to Willie. Next, Ken pulled out a big box, wrapped in white tissue with a huge fluffy blue and gold bow.

When Phil finally got the package opened, he pulled out a hand tooled Cordovan belt, a small holster, handcuff case, cartridge holder, leather badge & ID case and leather bound notebook, all matching with his initials.

He stood, shuffled a minute, and cleared his throat. “Gosh guys, thanks! But I haven’t bought the pistol yet.”

“We know, Phil.” Ken handed him another card and smaller heavier box similarly wrapped.

After Phil read the card, he sat for a moment looking stunned. Then he handed the card to his wife, who also looked stunned as she read it. Phil opened the package to reveal a Smith & Wesson pistol box. Inside was a brand new .357 revolver with a two inch barrel.

“My God, why isn’t he here?” Phil’s rasping voice matched the tears in his eyes.

“It’s Thad’s way, Phil. I’m sorry I can’t say anything different.”

“Do you know how much this pistol cost?” Phil looked around the table. “I was going to wait until that first paycheck came in and then Willie and I could figure how much we could spare. I was going to buy this on lay-away.”

Ken cleared his throat. “All I can tell you, Phil, is that Thad brought me the pistol and asked me to give it to you. He said he could do it as he has no family, and after all it was only money.”

After the long moment of silence, Ken reached into the shopping bag yet again and pulled out another card and a small package. “He also said for me not to forget the other half of a great team. Willie, this is for you.” He handed the card and present to Willie.

“Jan, what in Hell did you do to Gunn?” Dan Voukovich rumbled.

Jan shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. The other night, up in the park, I told him to unbury his humanity. But you know him better than I do. I thought it just rolled off his tough hide.” She shrugged again.

Everybody ohhed and ahhed at the miniature detective’s badge pendant on a shining chain that Willie held up. “Here, read these cards. I hardly know what to think.” She handed the two cards to Andre, who was sitting next to her. “Pass them around.”

Marcel Nadeau, Jan’s new partner, received the cards next. Jan placed her arm over the back of his chair and read the cards with him. She then passed them on to Rudolf Klaus, Ray Goldman’s partner.

“That’s just like Gunn,” Marcel said. “An impulsive gesture. My wife Janine is a tax consultant and bookkeeper. She does nearly every officer’s income taxes and when she finishes Gunn’s he always sends her a dozen long stemmed roses. You never know where that guy will light next.” Marcel gave a shrug.

Jan nodded, watching her friends’ expressions as they read the cards. That’s for sure. No one can guess what his twisted mind will come up with next. I guess he isn’t here today because he doesn’t want to witness, to feel Phil and Willie’s gratitude and the astonishment of the rest. Maybe because he doesn’t want to feel anything at all. God, I have to feel sorry for the man. He’s frozen inside.

* * * *

22 Sept 1982 2115:

January entered the squad room early. The butterflies were busy practicing their air show drills in her stomach. She’d spent several hours on Tuesday driving around Area Five, getting familiar. She’d reread the Departmental Operations Manual and checked over her briefcase, making sure nothing was missing that she might possibly need. Although she was as ready to go on patrol solo as she ever would be, she was still apprehensive. As the only one there, she picked up the shine board and started reading reports. She was nearly through when Ray Goldman came in.